xandre-fae-moni
MiniMoni
just falling asleep || 22 || he/they
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dreams of dancing in the dim light of the refrigerator your hand wrapped in mine. feeling you smile against my cheek, humming along to your favourite song. delicate. romantic. loving. echos of "i love you", like music in my ears. quiet but certain. together. close. poetic.
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"so this is love."
beautiful. giddy. magical.
to hold. to watch. to inspire.
is this what it's supposed to be? my heart beats fast and butterflies go through to my toes. fear travels out with them. all i want to do i dance through my dreams to see you in the mornings.
your eyes hold the interest and adoration that i've seen in romantic movies. and i can only assume my own face carries the same.
"so this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of."
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it's been awhile since I thought of you.
what does the world look like to you now? is it bright? beautiful? free?
do you laugh with more joy?
do you still kiss in the rain?
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Winter Romance
I miss you today. I miss you all the time, but today it's hurting. It's an ache. A pulling, tearing, yearning feeling that won't leave. And it consumes me like it has so many times.
I have been thinking of you when the music plays. When the dancing starts. Of how we would dance together. Close. Warm. Enchanting. Even though I am alone, I sway with you, wrapped in your arms.
Maybe it's because of the season. A familiar feeling. A sense of home. I can feel the fabric of your clothes under my fingertips. And I can see you. Your face is lit by the candles and, despite the sounds of a party, we're the only ones here.
I could spend hours listening to the way your clothes flow around us as we move. How your shoes click as they make contact with the ground. The music you make with your voice as you whisper into my ear. The loving words you sing to me as the world falls down around us.
Your gentle hold on me as you spin me around and the soft kisses you leave along my cheek and jaw allow me to sink further and further into the music. Into the moment. Into my… And I drift through it as though I’m on a cloud.
When you pull me away quietly to take full advantage of the mistletoe, I melt into it. Intoxicated by the atmosphere.
And when we end up outside in the snow -- the music faint in the background -- you remind me why I love it when the snow falls.
As the night comes to a close I know I never want to leave. And a piece of me tells me that I never have to. That I can stay and sit in front of your fireplace, wearing your clothes, surrounded and filled with a comforting love. I can fall asleep there in your arms to your voice, with your fingers carding through my hair.
But the rest of me will open my eyes to an empty kitchen, the last notes of a familiar song coming through my headphones and the lingering feeling of soft kisses along my neck. And I will continue to sway alone. To dance alone. To feel alone.
And I will continue to miss you tomorrow, tearing myself apart and picking up my pieces.
[Originally Written: December 16, 2021 by @xandre-fae-moni]
#poetry#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#writing#soulmates#aesthetic#dreams#romance#winter romance#Spotify
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Fainting
Dorian stood from his spot on the couch, grumbling quietly. He had been sitting for a while and, after hearing the word “coffee”, he knew he had to get up. Stretching lazily but efficiently, he wandered across the living room and collided with his dad for a cozy hug. Alexandre’s head was turned towards the kitchen, his eyes resting on that bright red coffee machine. After a moment he noticed his head getting tighter and his vision blur gently, but he wasn’t alarmed. He had just “stood up too fast” and would relay that to his dad as he lightly leaned on the older man to wait out the dizziness as he always did.
He wouldn’t remember closing his eyes.
The next moment came with a garbled menagerie of voices. With an empty, overwhelming feeling of dreaming. As Dorian was pulled out of the dreams he noticed his legs. They were shaking. Quickly, roughly, far from familiarity. And he couldn’t stop them. Why couldn’t he stop them? There was a building panic — terror, fear — and tears pricked painfully at his eyes. Carpet. Kitchen floors. Nothing made sense and all he could feel was terrified as a voice — his dad’s if the pale green in his vision was anything to go by — kept repeating that everything was ok over his sobs. He tried with painful desperation to stop his legs from shaking for what felt like ages to no avail. Eventually the shaking came to a halt and padded footsteps tumbled through Dorian's ears from above. Despite now having both parents settled on the floor with him — he was now sure that’s where he was — the tears were the new unstoppable force.
Somewhere through the confusion his dad told him that he had fainted. Slid right down the wall. That he had let go of Dorian because he thought the young man was joking as he was known to do during a bout of light-headedness, and usually he could stand on his own.
Turns out, this time, he couldn’t.
As his tears settled, Dorian stayed on the floor a few minutes more, allowing his mum to pull him into a hug. The tremors of his hands wouldn’t stop for another half-hour at least, despite him drinking and eating as he perhaps should’ve sooner. They must’ve been from the fear. The fear that, out of all of it, was the most unexpected. Dorian would still feel it spike hours later when he thought of the floor, of the shaking, of the voices.
But what would scare him the most — later, when he was alone and waiting for a new day — was the darkness. The unknown. He didn’t remember falling. He couldn’t remember landing onto the floor. He failed to remember when his eyes fell shut. One moment there was a familiar red machine, the next it was a linoleum floor through blurred vision.
How long was there nothingness? Pure absence of thought, sights, sounds, feelings.
As if it had never even happened at all. Gone. Simply never there.
To feel that kind of fear…Dorian hoped to never feel it again. He suspected though, that one day in the darkness, he would.
[Originally written December 26, 2022]
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It hurts. Hurts. Head pounding. Breaking. Tight. Falling in on myself. Collapsing. My bones shattering. It all feels like the world is crumbling down. Everything burns, but my fingers and toes feel so cold. And I’m so tired. And I can’t remember anything. My memories are slipping further and further from me. They’re getting so far away. And there’s the grief. Constantly tearing and crying and pounding through my skull. And it’s still there, I didn’t ask for this. I have instead begged for anything else. Do I need to form the screams outside of my mind for them to be heard? Even though it’s only autumn I am already desperate for the snow. I want to hear the whispers of wisdom that come from the crackling silence. Perhaps they could tell me what I should be doing. Could they soothe the pain – the dull ache of my thoughts? The cold from my fingers and toes is starting to spread up my arms and legs like dread and I can’t help but worry about what’s going to come. Am I to be chased? Am I to fall again? Why can nothing tell me what I have to fear? Is it truly as horrible as the cold suggests? What grief…is it really grounded in reality? Perhaps outside of my dreams? Is that even possible?
I’m scared. What will tomorrow bring?
Will it even come?
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Miracle Happens After Dawn
And the progress after two months’ hard working!
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“There’s a difference between losing something you knew you had and losing something you discovered you had. One is a disappointment. The other feels like losing a piece of yourself.”
— Gayle Forman, Just One Year
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For E:
My memories of you come from my chest. Right in the middle. They are more feelings now than visions. They spread and fly like magic – like wind – around me. So strong sometimes, that there's no way I haven't been lifted from the ground.
Perhaps it's the weight of those memories – of those feelings – that I feel.
When it rains. When the music plays.
But it's you. Familiar.
I struggle to remember you truly. Your voice. Your scent. Your touch.
But you are also oh so impossible to forget.
And I sound pathetic – begging to nothing, pleading desperate to no one but my own imagination – for you to return. To return as more than a memory. More than just a feeling.
Because you are my first love. That kind of love which blossoms as a spring.
You are that piece of me that I lose to the rain. That the snow whispers about when it falls on my face.
The pieces that I can no longer see, no longer hear, no longer touch. But I feel you like a hug – like a noose – which drags me off the course I believed I was on.
Now I write to you in letters you will never read and I dream of a fall into a broken ocean. Your last words to me etched into my skin – into my soul – with invisible ink.
I'm sorry. That I no longer see you for who you are. That we lost that reality. That now I only come to you through memories and wishes of a return into my life.
I'm sorry. I wish it was different.
But please never stop being the feeling of a memory. Never stop being that weight that grounds me.
[originally written February 24, 2022]
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Day and Night
I love your dark hair between my fingers. It's surprisingly soft and beautifully thin. There's something serene about how it tucks behind your ear. It's as graceful as you. Even in the early morning, when the sun has not yet risen. Your delicate yet strong demeanor is further relaxed upon those silken sheets. To admire you in this way…to caress your hair – your shield – I have never felt more honoured.
I love your pale scars underneath my lips. They're nearly invisible but the raised skin is impossible to miss when we lie in bed. You keep them hidden under your clothes during the day, but you show them to me in the moonlight. To me. You let me taste them. I can map your story piece-by-piece. With your hair surrounding your head – light like a halo – I can worship you as you deserve. I can respect your past while basking in our present.
Beset on either side by angels fallen to earth, I find myself floating in memories of times yet to exist and I can't help but wonder if this is all we will ever have.
Dreams within dreams.
Memories within imaginations.
But still I feel your hair between my fingers and those scars underneath my lips and names that ghost along my tongue are lost to the morning sun.
And yet I remain.
#poetry#poets on tumblr#writing#writers on tumblr#soulmates#dreams#aesthetic#here in an instant#gone in a flash#memories that are long since past
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“And sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to describe them in.”
— Jane Austen
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“We could have been happy. I know that, and it is perhaps the hardest thing to know.”
— Allie Condie // Matched
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